Double The Recommended Dose
by sarsaparillia
Summary: She looked at the label on the bottle of painkillers in her hand. Twelve hundred milligrams; or three pills a day. She smiled bitterly, and knocked one back. — Sasuke/Sakura.


Mrrflr. It turned into another Sakura-introspective. Wow, great job, Sara.  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine.  
**Dedication**: To **cherryluver19**. I'm sorry I'm such a miserable _fail_ at writing SasuSaku.  
**P.S.**: You know, there must be something wrong with me. Writing bad things is just _so easy_…  
**P.P.S.**: Interpret this how you want. I dunno. It's too weird for me.

---

'_Cuz you're a good girl and I never told you that…_

---

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_.o_**n**e.

(_because _**hey baby, hey baby**_, let's _rewind_ and _start again)

She wakes silently.

It is dark, and there is no sun outside. Her fingers are twined into the blanket covering her body, and Haruno Sakura does not open her eyes.

It is cold.

It is winter time, and there is snow outside. She feels ill, and reaches for the always-present bottle of painkillers.

She knows she will need them today.

She pulls her body out of bed, and staggers

(_because staggering is all she can do-_)

to the bathroom. It is only a little ways, but she can feel the scream in her muscles, from right around where she is bruised -her ribs, today-, all the way to her toes. It hurts when she moves her spine at all.

She winces, and flicks the light on.

It is fluorescent light, and every one of Sakura's flaws and bruises are displayed in the mirror in high definition, in cold, cutting light. She hates herself for a minute,

(_because she's not perfect and pretty girls are supposed to be perfect-_)

gently puts the bottle -careful, careful, oh, so careful- down on the counter, and slips into the shower.

The water is freezing and Sakura's skin burns, it is so cold. She does not make a sound, just mutely turns the water a little warmer.

Besides, the cold water almost felt nice, in a morbid way, against the bruises. Sakura smiles crookedly to the reflection of girl-in-towel, and reaches for the painkillers.

Her eyes find the label; trace it almost lovingly. She has read it so very many times. Twelve hundred milligrams; or three pills a day. Only three. Just three.

She pops the cap open, smiles bitterly, and knocks one back. '_It's a four-aspirin morning_', she thinks, and leaves the bathroom.

The light flickers off with a 'click'.

---

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.**t**_w_o.

(_because _**hey baby, hey baby**_, let's _play_ to __**win**_)

She tucks the painkillers away in her bag - it is one of '_those'_ days.

She _hates_ 'those' days; they are the reason she is as medicated as she is. So actually, maybe she loves 'those' days

(_because_ _that medication is nice and colourful and pretty and maybe she shouldn't take so many-_)

but she has no idea who she is anyways. So why does it matter?

And then she decides that it doesn't really matter either way, and starts on the way to school. The early morning is quiet; it always is, and Sakura walks to school

(_because she doesn't really want to live anymore_)

as slowly as she can.

They sky in grey, and she is cold. Her red scarf, red gloves, and black jacket do little to cut the wind. She does not want to do anything other then find a nice, warm, quiet spot to sit down and read, maybe, for a little while.

Sakura is not stupid; she knows that she will not be allowed to be left alone. She is, after all, one of _them_.

And _they_ are everything to her school. _They_ have so much influence that sometimes it makes Sakura sick to know that she belongs to their number.

She is _not_ like _them_,

(_because no matter how much she wants to be, she won't be like them-_)

no matter _how_ hard she tries. She hates herself again, and places a second pill on her tongue. '_Might as well take them now_', she thinks, and she swallows half-heartedly.

She is just so very tired.

---

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t_h_**re**e.

(_because _**hey baby, hey baby**_, fast forward is _just a button)

School is boring, to Sakura.

There is nothing for her to do, nothing for her to see, nothing for her to _feel_. She is just so _bored_

(_because being bored is worse then being tired-_)

of _everything_. And being bored is simply a waste of time, to Sakura.

She lays her head down on her desk, and closes her eyes. '_Maybe_' she thinks, '_Maybe I can get some sleep_'.

But she doesn't, because she is one of _them_, one of the doll people, and everyone and everything wants her attention. They want it

(_because she is so beautiful and oh-so fascinating-_)

just like they want everything else; right now, fast, _this fucking minute_. And Sakura despises these people, because they _bore_ her.

And nothing is worse then being bored. Nothing.

Well, nothing except migraines. But they are a class all their own, and Sakura can feel one coming on, now. She squints up into the lights, and she can almost see a bright grin, blond hair, and blue-the-colour-of-the-sky eyes; and then there is _that_ boy.

He is rather striking, if Sakura may say so herself. There is just something about the way he stands -so tall, so erect, so very _regal_- that makes her want to _slap_ his smirk off his beautiful mouth.

She _swears_ she knows him from somewhere, but she can never quite place that cocky, cocky smirk and those dark, dark eyes. She _swears_ she knows him from somewhere because every time they are in the same room, she gets shivers.

She tries to ignore them, just like he ignores her.

It doesn't work out very well, and she finds herself running to the bathroom to swallow another pill to stop the oncoming migraine.

She doesn't want her head to hurt.

After all, everything _else_ does.

---

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**f**_ou_r.

(_because _**hey baby, hey baby**_, pause __isn't real_)

Lunch time, and Sakura fakes a laugh with the girl next to her. The girl has blonde hair, and Sakura doesn't even know her name.

And to be quite honest, Sakura does not want to know this girl's name. She is surrounded by people -so many people-

Sakura looks around desperately for her _real_ friends; the ones she has known her entire life, the ones she _trusts_,

(_because it is hard for her to trust, and those pills are just so close-_)

but she can't find them. They are not together.

Slowly, so slowly, she picks them out from around the room.

Ino is giggling at the table next to her, talking her way into yet _another_ party. Sakura sighs. Of course, that is Ino; Ino loves to party. Sakura quietly smiles at her oldest friend.

Tenten is shaking her head at the captain of the cheer squad (Sakura _really_ doesn't like that girl); _no_, the basketball _will not_ wear skirts to play. It is unethical.

Sakura truly smiles a second time.

Karin is with Suigetsu and Juugo, wearing too-baggy clothes for her frame, and laughing like a maniac. Hinata is with them, too, her art bag under her arm, and paint brushes in her hair.

And those _boys_ are there; the one with sunny hair and blue-the-colour-of-the-sky eyes, and the dark one, too.

Sakura has never met them; has never been introduced, but she _knows_ those two. The familiarity is _always_ there.

_Always_.

The blonde girl next to her is still talking. Her voice is high pitched and Sakura covers her ears

(_because that voice is just _so annoying_ that is hurts-_)

to block out the sound. She does not want to hear any more talking right now, she just wants to _sleep_.

When the bell rings for the next period, Sakura is relieved. She runs to the bathroom, and stares at herself in the mirror.

She hates what she sees. She _always_ hates what she sees.

With shaking fingers, she opens the bottle. The recommended dose screams at her; this is definitely not the last pill she will take today, and they both know it.

She knocks another one back, and pretends that it is her first.

---

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_fi_**v**e.

(_because _**hey baby, hey baby**_, a _stop_ is just a__** start**_)

Sakura is sitting in the empty theater after school.

There is no rehearsal today; there is absolutely no one around, and Sakura is content. As long as it is quiet, she will be happy.

She rather likes being alone.

It gives her time to think, and to just _breathe_

(_because she doesn't get that kind of chance during the day-_)

and it's just so _nice_, and so rare, that she treasures it. She breathes in, a deep, huge breath, and she lets it out slowly, so slowly.

The oxygen permeating her brain is welcome.

Oxygen doesn't hurt.

Not the way still-healing bruises hurt; not the way _everything_ else hurts. Sakura keeps breathing, even though her ribs twinge in annoyance.

She thinks that maybe if she stops breathing, maybe she won't _hurt_ so much, and maybe she'll feel just a _little_ bit better.

But oxygen is necessary to life in general, just like sleep, and even though Sakura likes neither one of these things, she knows that she needs them.

She sighs, and tries to relax in the old, comfortable seat she is sitting in.

She isn't able to, and she knows that if she doesn't get home soon, it will simply be worse for her. She stands on already-wobbly legs, and walks to the door.

But before she leaves, she takes one last, long look around the room.

Her ribs still hurt.

She is _so tired_ of hurting; she doesn't want to _hurt_ anymore. She roughly pulls the little bottle of painkillers out -she almost _tears_ the top off in her hast to get it open- and pops _yet another_ pill in her mouth.

She hums in satisfaction as she swallows it.

Sakura walks out of the theater, and finds her way blocked by someone's chest. She looks up, and stares, boredly, at that _boy_.

She knows that face

(_because she's seen it in her dreams and she knows it better then anyone else's-_)

and she doesn't want to hear it right now. He is exactly like Karin; always warning that her painkiller habit will kill her. It _won't_. They make her feel _better_. How can something that makes her feel _better_ make her _sick_?

Exactly. It _can't_.

"You shouldn't do that," he says.

Sakura continues to stare him down. Maybe he will go away, if she does. "Do I _know_ you?" she says, and forces annoyance to lace her words like venom.

"Yes," he says.

"Really. How do I know you? I don't even know your name," she tells him.

She drops her eyes, because they both know that is a lie. She knows him and he knows her; time and space change, but souls do not. And his name is the same either way.

"You know me, Sakura."

"No," she says. "No, I don't know you at all. I never did. Not even if I wanted to."

And then she ducks underneath his arm, and she starts to leave. She doesn't need to have past memories in her head that aren't _hers_. She doesn't know that girl; she _couldn't_ have known that girl that looks _exactly_ like her. She couldn't be her

(_because she's not that strong, and it's impossible to split a mountain in half in one punch anyways, don't kid yourself-_)

And she _couldn't_ have known him. She _couldn't_ have loved him. It was all just a dream. Just a dream.

But it almost kills her to walk away.

---

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_s_**i**x.

(_because _**hey baby, hey baby**_, let's _rewind_ and __**start again**_)

She wakes

(_because there's a scream on her lips and memories flying past her eyes-_)

silently.

It is dark, and there is no sun outside. Her fingers are twined into the blanket covering her body, and Haruno Sakura does not open her eyes.

---

_f_**i**n.


End file.
